The Physical and the Mental
by Shembre
Summary: Arthur's stomach writhed in his gut. The hotel room he stood in gave off a sharp vibe of anger and psychosis. The air was thick with it, he was sure. He stuck his hand in his pocket. "Ariadne…? Where are we?" Story about Arthur and Ariadne's relationship and how the unpleasant side of their work plays into it. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is something that I started working on a couple weeks ago while working on another project that's driving me a bit up the wall. XD I hope you guys will enjoy it! It's just a little story about Arthur and Ariadne's relationship and how it's impacted in a couple different ways by the darker side of the dream world. Eames and Cobb are in it a bit, too. I'm uploading this in parts. I appreciate all my readers and reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Nolan's awesome characters, but I enjoy writing about them.**

**The Physical and the Mental**

By Shembre

~ ~ * * * I * * * ~ ~

Leaves like pieces of crumpled orange parchment were falling from scraggly trees by the wheel barrowful, covering over dull-green grass and rain-stained sidewalks, becoming a kinetic carpet that constantly rippled and tore open in the chilly, Parisian breeze.

Back when the leaves had been young and a vivid green, two _long_ years after the Fischer job, Arthur had finally bit the bullet. He'd had enough of the stern debate that had been running through his head.

_I have to see her again… No, you can't go down that road. It's not safe._

_Wonder if Ariadne misses me…? Probably, though missing you from afar means she's that much safer._

_What harm can I do if I just see her for a couple of days…? A lot._

_What if she calls for work…? You turn her down carefully, that's what._

_That kiss… Stop thinking of that kiss… The kiss that could lead to other things…_

He wasn't as strong in his convictions as he'd wanted to be. With Eames's avid insistence, Ariadne had served as architect on one of the jobs they had pulled together during those two years, but things had remained mild between the point man and the architect to say the least. Arthur had convinced himself that if anyone could be good for her, it couldn't be _him_—at any rate, not who _he_ was on the job, as well as whom he had associated with in the past, and would probably deal with in the future. He stole people's thoughts and ran away from gun-toting thugs. She was young. She had a promising career in design ahead of her. He couldn't bear the idea that someone might want her head stuffed and mounted on a wall because of him. For the most part, he allowed himself to check in on her every few months, but that was it.

He threw himself into his work to keep occupied, but when Ariadne had called and invited him to her graduation from Ecole D'Architecture, he'd accepted with little protest, especially when she'd said that Cobb and Eames were coming, too. Her parents, who'd had some affair to deal with on short notice, were flying in the following weekend. Arthur thought that if Cobb and Eames were going to show up, it would look bad if he refused. He also thought that with them hanging around, he'd be able to keep his business-like composure…

_Seeing her in her graduate uniform on stage. The congratulatory handshake. Her sunny laugh. A hug. Dinner. The day had gone quickly and hadn't been terribly difficult at all until Cobb and Eames had gotten up from the table at the restaurant where they were all celebrating. Arthur and Ariadne had been talking about the job offers she'd been entertaining when Arthur had finally noticed that half their party was missing._

_"Cobb's calling his children," Ariadne answered when he'd asked where the other men had gone. She carefully picked up her glass of the champagne that Cobb had ordered for the group. She was sitting on the opposite side of the table, diagonal from Arthur, who was seated next to Cobb. "Eames left about a minute or two ago to go to the loo."_

_"Hmm." Arthur's eyes flickered between the two empty seats._

_She took a sip of her drink and then added with a warm laugh, "Stare at their seats harder and maybe you'll make them materialize." She giggled, probably at his confused expression. "Relax. I think they just needed a break."_

_ He looked at her smiling face again as she took another sip. "Break from what?"_

_She was grinning. "You! I don't think we're used to you being so… talkative."_

_"Oh." He frowned at the almost empty glass in his hand, embarrassed. He then looked back up and smirked. "We? Well, do you need a break from me, too?"_

_She shook her head and smiled sweetly, glancing down at the table. "No, I like talkative Arthur," she said earnestly. "He wants answers to questions that aren't just… 'you still alive?' or… 'how's that maze coming?" She even tried to mimic his voice._

_Arthur chuckled, but stopped short when Eames returned and sat down next to Ariadne. Feeling awkward, Arthur took a long drink of his champagne, trying to stay even-tempered under the forger's damnable grin._

_"I think you'd sound more like poor Arthur if you weren't bursting into a fit of giggles, sweetheart." Ariadne's mirth-trembling shoulders then came under a half-hug from Eames, who asked Arthur, "You really ask her 'you still alive'? Just like that?"_

_ Ariadne giggled harder. "Yes."_

_The forger's eyes widened in mock shock. "Really? I'm fairly sure that's what you ask me from time to time, darling," Eames went on. "Never am I gladder to hear those few words every six or so months."_

_Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No. I_ don't_ ask her that." In gesture, he raised his hand so they could see his palm as he said, "I ask: how are you doing?"_

_Eames grinned harder. "Which I suppose equals, 'are you still alive?' in Arthur-speak? Hmm?" He then dropped his arm from Ariadne's shoulders. "I expected far more. But, I suppose you should be flattered, Ariadne, that he asks about your well-being, and not just whether or not you're still breathing."_

_"Eames, if I stopped calling you all together, I'd save time, now wouldn't I?" Arthur retorted._

_ "Yes." The forger reached for the bottle of champagne. "But there's no need to throw around empty threats, darling; it's not very becoming of you. I know you enjoy our little chats just as much as I do."_

_Arthur smirked. "Like a toothache."_

_"Don't undersell it now."_

_Arthur shifted in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, giving the forger a tight-lipped smile. "So suppose I do enjoy those… little chats… deep down… __**very**__ deep down? They still can't compare to seeing your smiling face in person. I enjoy that about as much as I enjoy being shot in the kneecap or being told I have no imagination."_

_Ariadne grinned as Eames replied, topping off Arthur's glass, "Really that bad, huh? Could've fooled me." The Brit set the champagne bottle back down. "Now how about you stop bickering with me and get back to that lovely conversation you were having with Ariadne before I left the table, hmm? For the last half-hour it's been nothing but you two." Eames picked up his own glass and smirked goadingly at Arthur. "Cobb and I might as well leave you two birds to it." The forger then looked over at Ariadne and winked at her._

_Eames was seconds away from a kick to the shin under the table when Cobb finally rejoined the party. The conversation's focus then thankfully turned from Arthur to Cobb's children, and how Cobb was planning on taking Phillipa and James to Disney World in a few weeks. As Cobb spoke however, and although she continued to nod and add to the conversation, Ariadne glanced in Arthur's direction a total of six times._

Make that seven, _he thought silently._

_About an hour later, when the restaurant was closing for the night, they paid the bill and gathered outside. The night air was refreshingly cool and smelled of sweet flowers and cooking food from one of the other restaurants nearby. Cobb and Eames were about to head to the hotel where all three men were staying when Ariadne noticed that Arthur had forgotten the jacket he'd come wearing, but had discarded in the warmth of the restaurant._

_"I must have put it on the back of my chair." He turned to Cobb and Eames as he started to walk back inside. "I'll catch up."_

_The two men nodded, and were saying their good-byes to Ariadne when Arthur slipped back into the restaurant. Eames and Cobb had already started walking the seven or so blocks to the hotel by the time he found his light brown sports jacket on the back of his chair. A restaurant employee was gathering up Arthur's jacket, but he handed it over to the point man when he came to claim it. Jacket in hand, Arthur exited the building._

_Outside, Ariadne had waited for Arthur._

_"Hey…"_

_She smiled. "Hey."_

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**A/N: Hmm... I wonder where this is going to go? What are you guys hoping will happen? Well, I hope you're enjoying this so far, anyway. The banter between Arthur and Eames was my favorite part to write, but what was difficult about this chapter was how to show which text parts were Arthur's thoughts or which words needed emphasis because most of this was in italics! Reviews are welcome, please. There will be about 4 more parts after this, so stick around. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hiya! Back for more? Well here's some more. :)**

**~ ~ * * * II * * * ~ ~**

_Outside the restaurant, Ariadne had waited for Arthur._

_A nervous smile tugged at Arthur's mouth. "Hey…"_

_She smiled. "Hey."_

_To see her up close, to be alone with this pretty, quick-witted young woman, was much harder than exchanging a few trivial words over the phone, ignoring the feelings he didn't think he should have for her. When he had entered the "business", he hadn't thought of how his job would impact his social life, mostly because at the time he hadn't really had one. He'd just wanted a new adventure._

_Ariadne was shining her bright, happy smile at him. Maybe it was the two glasses of champagne he'd had or the jet lag, but to him that smile was like a ray of sunshine breaking through storm clouds... Yes... it probably was the alcohol… Ariadne was wearing a fitted, cap-sleeved gray dress with a thin black belt around her waist. It made her look pretty and refined. _

_She tucked her brown hair behind her ears. "Were you going to do anything with Eames and Cobb?"_

_He shook his head, glancing down at the jacket he had gripped in his hand. "Eames'll probably be in the bar in the hotel half the night. Cobb is gonna be asleep as soon as he gets to his room." _

_His resolve was rapidly slipping through his fingers. The way she looked at him... with her soft brown eyes... Was it really such a grave notion, a paranoid nightmare, to think that getting closer to Ariadne would ultimately reduce their tentative friendship to murder by the hands of those they couldn't protect themselves from?_

_She took a step towards him. "So what? What are you doing before you go off… wherever you go?"_

_He shrugged his shoulders. Elusively, he said, "I thought maybe I'd go for a walk or read before I go to bed or some—"_

_She closed the space between them. The collar on his striped shirt had been unbuttoned hours before, and her fingers brushed his throat as she pulled his face closer to hers. On his lips she gave him a quick kiss, much like the one he had given her on the hotel level of the Fischer job._

That kiss…

_Still within kissing distance, she said, her voice a bit nervous, "Think of that as your graduation present to me." Her warm fingers released his collar, and she stepped away, smiling up at him. "Arthur? When you call me in a few months to check on me, promise you'll say something other than 'how am I doing'?"_

_Stunned that this time she had made the first move, and in reality, he nodded. "I promise."_

_She started walking backwards, still smiling, but this time it was a different smile, one he hadn't seen on her before, and one he couldn't explain to himself before she turned around and started walking back to her apartment, which was a few blocks away._

_He glared down at the ground, unmoving._

Let her go.

_Sticking his hands in his pockets, he turned his head in the direction Cobb and Eames would've left in minutes earlier. He hadn't been especially discreet during dinner, at least from Eames's point of view, but he knew his window to leave was closing, and they would know for sure that something was up between the point man and the architect if he waited too long to go back to the hotel._

Let things go back to normal, _his mind warned._ Be strong. Protect her.

_He turned his head. He could still see Ariadne._

_Then his mind retorted, as sharply as his retorts to Eames had been earlier:_ What if I don't want normal? What if I want _her_?

No! You can't!

_Arthur's feet finally moved, swiftly taking him down the sidewalk. He couldn't stand the argument in his head anymore._

_He thought that his footsteps must have been loud because the figure ahead of him stopped walking and half-turned to him. Eyebrow cocked both inquiringly and a little impassively, she adjusted how the thin strap of the purse she was carrying hung on her shoulder._

_"I'd like it if," he began, "you came on a walk with me. If you want to, of course."_

_She smiled, but didn't show her teeth. "What about that book or sleeping?"_

_He cleared his throat. "I don't think my book is going anywhere, and I could sleep any time I want, even on the job." He felt a rush of heat rise at the back of his neck when a more confident smile returned to her face. "It's very lovely tonight," he added._

_"Yes." She nodded and looked up at the sky as a small breeze ruffled her hair. Her gaze then grew distant, as if she was looking far down the street, and he wondered if she was thinking about folding Paris in over itself like she could in a dream._

_"You look lovely tonight, too."_

_Her eyes refocused on him and she smiled. "Thank you."_

_Returning her smile, he nodded curtly and began to walk down the street, she at his side. In his mind lingered doubts that he was crossing some line that he shouldn't, but he was so tired of keeping those doubts in the forefront of his mind and holding back. Because he saw how she looked at him with a kind of thoughtful comradeship, because he loved the sight of her gentle smile and the sound of her melodic and infectious laugh, and because he knew it was probably inevitable anyway, he let himself give in and enjoy Ariadne's company, without thinking he had to keep her at arm's length. He wanted to hold her in his arms and for it to be okay._

Just because I want to kiss her, the world isn't going to burn.

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**A/N: The next chapter is going to kick off a second part to this story, which was actually the start of the whole story before I added about six pages to the document. It had just felt like it was lacking something... So yes, I hope you're enjoying this. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

As the dried, shriveled, orange leaves fell from ice-frosted tree branches, Ariadne became increasingly more important than the dreams, his money, and his own life. For now, Arthur was staying at the same hotel he'd checked into in the late spring. He soon hoped to lease an apartment under an alias in the Latin Quarter. Ariadne, once her college roommate had left, had purchased her own apartment near the underground _Chatelet-Les Halles_ station.

One night, Arthur kissed Ariadne on her temple and stroked his thumb over the soft flesh of her hand, which glowed pale in the florescent light of the TV. She was half-way curled against his side and his body was wedged between her and the arm of the small couch in her new apartment. Her red jacket and a pink-and-gray scarf rested over the other arm of the couch. Chuckling at a joke on the TV, Arthur reflexively listened for Ariadne to laugh, too. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he saw her small face change, as if something serious had occurred to her. Something that was going on in her head but not on the screen.

"You all right?" he asked, frowning a little.

Her tone was calm and clear, her eye contact solid. "I want to show you something," she replied quietly. Her lips offered a weak smile. "You won't like it, but I need you to see it."

He frowned, curious. "What is it?" Her firm expression was giving him nothing.

She peeled herself from the couch and walked over to her coat closet by the entry way. After she opened the door, he heard the shuffle and thump of shoes and the metallic scrape of a coat zipper being pushed across the hardwood floor.

_What are you up to, Ariadne?_

Shaking his head, Arthur got up, crossed the floor, and stood behind Ariadne, who was on her hands and dark-jeaned knees, softly rubbing her hands over the bare floor. Two pairs of shoes and a jacket were in a tangled pile pressed against the back of the closet. Arthur raised an eyebrow when Ariadne's nimble fingers caught and lifted up a rectangular, hinged panel in the middle of the closet floor. Concealed hinges on the panel squealed and moaned as Ariadne revealed a PASIV case beneath the floor, hidden in a snug compartment.

She looked up at him from over her shoulder. "Gift from Eames."

"Huh... " Arthur sighed. He didn't appreciate that Eames had given Ariadne her own PASIV, but the craftiness of the hiding space impressed him. Scratching the back of his head, he asked, "Do we really need that?"

"This is too complicated for reality."

"This is a bit out of nowhere. Were you approached for a job?"

"This isn't about the PASIV or work... necessarily... So don't worry your pretty little head." Ariadne removed the case from the cavity in the floor and passed it to him. She took his extended proffered hand and stood up. Her mouth smirked at him, but her brown eyes still had that same look of controlled seriousness that unnerved him.

"Arthur, I could try to explain it… but you probably won't take me seriously, unless I _show _you." She squeezed his hand firmly.

He raised a brow, frowned, and looked down questioningly at the PASIV. His face started to warm, and the muscles in his neck constricted. "Why wouldn't I take you seriously?"

"I just want to make sure you understand," she replied softly, gently. "I don't want... Well, c'mon, let's get this over with.

She tugged impatiently on his hand and he followed her with the PASIV. As he walked, the silver case that contained infinite worlds and possibilities swung from his arm like a pendulum, weighing him down. She led him into her bedroom, where he helped her set up the machine in the middle of the bed in the light of a side table lamp he had turned on. He must have glanced at her half a dozen times. She was kneeling over the machine, pulling out her line and cuff. She appeared to be ignoring him.

_What are you up to, Ariadne?_

He asked, "How long?"

She pursed her lips. "Ten minutes dreamtime will be enough."

_Was that a tremor in her voice..?_

"I'm Dreamer," she added.

He nodded solemnly and set the digital clock. Rolling up one sleeve of his shirt, Arthur sat down on her bed, his back to Ariadne, before he pulled his legs onto the mattress and laid back against a pillow. To lighten the heavy mood, he thought of making a stupid joke about how usually they were doing less serious things in her bed together, but the words that began to form felt wrong when he gazed at her small, serious-minded face.

Her line was stuck in her arm with the white cuff around her delicate wrist. Ariadne sighed a little, easing the back of her head down onto her pillow, her brown hair swelling and framing her cheeks and chin.

For no particular reason that he could pinpoint, though he wished he could, he felt a sharp pang in his chest.

Ariadne's voice was quiet. "Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Could you trigger the machine?"

"Right…" He scooted down so his head was on his pillow, but so he could still reach the plunger on the PASIV.

As he pushed down on the trigger, Ariadne finally looked into his eyes from across the machine. In his last moment of consciousness, he suddenly registered fear on her face. He felt like panicking, but it was too late. As the chemicals filled his veins and clouded his mind, his body relaxed and his eyelids slipped down.

_Ten minutes dreamtime… Why so little?_


	4. Chapter 4

When he opened them again, Arthur's eyes missed nothing— from the glass shards embedded into the carpet like confetti after a party, to the thrashed flowers that had been abandoned in piles of wilted white petals and long green stems. The soft yellow lighting that bounced off a perfect crystal chandelier conflicted with the chaos of the shambolic, modern bedroom. Chairs and stools were over on their sides. Loud sirens screeched hollowly outside the open windows. The whole room was brisk from the breeze that made the sheer window dressings sway, puffing up before deflating. Pillows were strewn across the carpet, and the corpse of a lamp had toppled across a dark side table. Then, out of the corner of his eye, to his right, Arthur saw a dash of red.

The sheets on the lone bed in the room had been partially stripped from the mattress. The blankets were half-balled-up and dripping halfway onto the ground like a badly iced cake. In her red jacket and a yellow scarf with black, paisley designs, Ariadne sat on the end of the bed, her legs dangling inches above the white carpet. Her hands were in her lap. Her eyes were glazed, transfixed upon an off-white, curved-back couch that was across the room. Her pale cheeks were lined with sadness...

_Maybe a little terror or grief, too?_

Arthur shivered.

Both his bravery and resolve seeped out from the soles of his shoes, and he wanted to fill the emptiness in his chest with something warm and comforting to keep his whole body from turning to ice. His stomach writhed in his gut. He realized after a moment that the room gave off a sharp vibe of anger and psychosis. The air was thick with it, he was sure. He stuck his hand in his pocket. His fingers touched the hard surface of his die.

"Ariadne…?" He swallowed nervously. "Ariadne?" He couldn't find the strength to move over to her, to lift his hand to brush aside the portion of her hair that was hiding half her face even though he wanted to do so. Badly. "Where are we?"

She stammered, "The hotel room… f-from the night Mal died. It's my memory of Cobb's memory. The crime scene…"

His breath left him, and his throat constricted in dread. The sirens outside seemed farther away now, and the curtains had stopped dancing like ghosts. His neck flushed hot and he gaped in horror. "Wh-what— Fu… I didn't even see that. _This. _Cobb showed you this?" he inquired angrily. "When? Why?"

Her eyes narrowed and calmly she turned her head to look him in the eye. "Arthur, it's not Cobb's fault." Her head bobbed with every other trembling word she spoke. "Right now I need you to understand something bigger than your problems with Cobb."

Feeling confused and frustrated, Arthur furrowed his brow. He started to stalk through the destroyed hotel room, gesturing indignantly to the mess with his hands, but making no sound—not because he didn't have the words, because he had the words—but because they couldn't come out between his clenched jaw. Finally, he stopped moving and was able to force out one word. "When?"

Her answer was quick and clear. "Right before you and Saito arrived at the warehouse with the announcement that Maurice Fischer had died."

_I shoulda known something was up when Cobb wanted you on the plane…Not that Cobb wouldn't have still done as he'd wished, even if I'd protested against it._

"Now why have you seen this?"

Her hands moved to grip the mattress on either side of her thighs. "I snuck into Cobb's dream because I wanted to see what kind of 'tests' he was doing. Yusef wasn't guarding him that night like usual." Her gaze became distant again.

"I take it they weren't tests."

Her head shook slowly. "No."

"What was he dreaming about?"

"Memories. With Mal. And his kids," she replied, her voice cracking. "He was able to visit his memories in levels by using an elevator— he said they were all things he regretted. _This_ is what he had hidden in the basement level. But _he_ didn't actually show me—he was still monologueing about getting back to James and Phillipa on another memory level when I snuck back into the elevator and came… here."

When she paused, Arthur turned to her. On her pinched face she wore the same pained expression he remembered from the first day they'd met, right after she'd been jarred awake from her second dream. After Mal had stabbed her.

"Was Mal down here?" he asked quietly.

She nodded slowly. Her eyes flickered to the side. "Have you... ever thought about what it would be like to go insane?"

Worriedly, he arched his brows. "I think everyone in the business has." He resisted the urge to slip his hand into his pocket again. "Totems aren't foolproof."

"Well she scared the shit out of me... There was something-something disturbing in her eyes that I can't get away from. Arthur we can't lose ourselves," she blurted. "Who we are."

He blinked. "Wha—? That's why… That's why I needed to see this?"

She nodded, slid off the bed, and stood up. "Yes."

He took one step towards her, but hesitated to cross over to her. He then took another step and picked up the toppled lamp on the side table and set it upright, terribly conscious of her intense gaze on him. "We _won't_ lose ourselves," he answered as reassuringly as he could. "They were playing with something they didn't understand and they got burned..."

"Don't simplify it like that." Ariadne's tone was sharp. "Cobb and Mal didn't understand Limbo, but their problems didn't happen because of it. They didn't have problems _because_ they lost sight of reality. They just couldn't let each other go when clearly staying together was going to destroy the both of them, and it nearly did. I love you, Arthur, but with the work we do, we've gotta be careful. We can't be attached to each other like normal couples."

Even though she had implied it many times over, this was the first time she'd said those specific words out loud to him— I love you.

Her eyes started to shine. She closed the gap between them and lifted her hands onto his shoulders. Her warm hands squeezed his tense muscles through his neatly-buttoned dress shirt. "Mal and Cobb fell into a trap, and that's a trap I wouldn't wish on anyone. It wasn't Limbo."

"It was Limbo, and Mal didn't want to leave, and Cobb tricked her into leaving," Arthur insisted, his voice betraying a stab of unsettled bitterness. Now he started to anxiously count down the time in his head. He thought that only two or three dreadful minutes were remaining. He didn't want to be in that hurricane-struck room ever again. As he stared at her pale face, he thought that ten minutes in this dream hadn't been short _enough._

Ariadne shook her head. "You waited two years to make your move, Arthur," she went on. "At first I didn't know why, especially after that kiss at the hotel, but it didn't take long to figure out that you were probably trying to protect me from harm. I didn't like it, but I knew my safety was important to you, so I didn't push it. Why else would you keep checking in on me? You could've vanished into thin air. But you didn't.

"To survive in the dream world, people have to be vicious and cold," she continued. "I know who's out there, and I can only guess what they're capable of. I can safely assume that they will all do whatever it takes to come out on top. I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of the torture. The manipulation. Revenge. And I don't know how much _you_ think about losing it, but it's something that keeps crossing my mind. I _love_ the dreams, the power, the possibilities, but they come with a cost. Sometimes it feels like it would be so easy to get lost in the dream world. All it might take is one tragedy to screw things up, to turn ambition and bravery into obsession and guilt. That stuff eats away at you. You can live in a dream for decades, but you can't live in a nightmare. And I keep thinking that if something happened to me, I knew you might… and—" Tears rolled down her cheeks and her lip trembled. She lowered her head so he could only see the top of her head.

Arthur's eyes widened. He probably would've denied it if she'd chosen to ask him if he'd ever thought about what he'd do to someone if they ever hurt Ariadne. When thinking about what had happened to Mal and Cobb, he'd always told himself that if he could maintain the distinction between the real world and his dreams, he'd be fine. If he could dodge enough bullets and shoot sharp, he'd be fine. If he was clever enough, he'd be fine. From what Ariadne was saying, he'd been dead wrong. It was the one detail he'd overlooked.

"Shhh… Relax, Ariadne..." He pulled her hands from his shoulders and interweaved his fingers with hers, grasping her hands tightly. "Relax," he tried to say smoothly, but the word got caught in his throat. "I understand now… I do. I'll just need time to absorb all this… but… I understand… You've made your point vividly enough…"

Tears fell from Ariadne's chin, and she looked up at him and gave a tiny, shaky smile. When she leaned forward, he caught her and hugged her tight. With a shudder, she wrapped her arms around his ribs. Her tears dampened the material over his chest.

"When you were stabbed by Mal on your first day in the warehouse," he whispered, "I'm sorry I acted so calm. I guess I'd grown used to it. She was like the other projections. Part of the dream. A nuisance. I knew it wasn't really Mal."

"You didn't know any better," she excused him.

"I could've tried harder to help Cobb." Arthur frowned sadly and closed his eyes with a tired sigh. "I sometimes thought he was smart enough to sort things out himself. I was wrong... Ariadne, thanks for showing me this…"

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**A/N: The last section will be up on the 21st. Thanks you guys for following along! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

When Arthur opened his eyes, they latched onto Ariadne's sleeping face from across the bed. Her eyes flickered open, wandered a bit, and then met his.

"Ariadne, I love you," he whispered. He'd been leading up to that right before the dream had abruptly ended. He sat up, missing her warmth. He ignored the buzzer on the PASIV. Her eyes were glassy when she carefully removed her line before he hugged her. Her neck pressed against his, he could faintly feel her pulse. His eyes and nose started to prickle.

"I won't let you go crazy. I won't…"

Then Ariadne croaked, "Can't breathe."

Immediately he loosened his grip on her shoulders and back. "Oh, sorry."

Her hands were clasped together between his shoulder blades. Sniffling, she asked, "Don't tell Cobb about this, okay?"

His jaw tensed. What arose in Arthur's mind was his disappointment in Cobb for having carelessly brought an inexperienced dreamer into his messed-up head; for not having enough faith in his own friend and point man to help him; for being such a closed book even when the favorite activity of Cobb's projection was to hold guns to Arthur's head; and for putting the lives of others like Eames, Yusef, Saito, and even Fischer Jr. in peril. He was just plain selfish…

_If not for Ariadne... I should have been nosier, I had not idea it was so bad, I should've— No, I can't blame myself. Cobb knew better. Maybe one day I'll forgive him for that._

"Arthur." Her voice steady and strong, Ariadne pressed him to speak. "Promise me you won't tell Cobb I showed you the hotel? It's… too personal."

He sighed, feeling drained. "I… I promise I won't. I promise…I love you, and I promise I won't tell Cobb about the hotel. It'll stay between us."

Involuntarily, he shivered.

"Thank you... I love you, too," she replied, agreeing with him with a subtle shiver of her own. "What time is it?"

They pulled away from each other and Arthur turned to see the round-faced clock on her side table, its tiny black arms pointing straight to twelve and two. "Late."

Ariadne rubbed her face with her palms. She then tugged gently at the lines of the PASIV to trigger them to coil back into the case. "I wanted to get up early to research for any specialized materials that could take the kind of stress I need for my less realistic designs. I guess I lost track of time while we were watching TV." Although several firms had scrambled to snatch up such a brilliant architecture student, Ariadne's employers still treated her like a novice. She'd been assigned to a project that nobody cared about, but she'd said that if she don't care, she didn't expect to be assigned to the bigger projects. This smaller work project also left her time to build up her body of personal designs.

"I should probably go then. Let you sleep if you need it." Arthur heard the disappointment in his voice as he watched her close the silver lid on the machine. It sealed with a dull click.

She looked up at him and smiled. "Though, you could still sleep here, too."

His brow lifted, smirking. "What about your research?"

"If you're so concerned about my work, you can just slip out in the morning."

"Good point." Arthur grabbed the handle on the case and slid off the bed in one motion. "But, Ariadne, I thought I was more than a one-night stand to you."

Ariadne flashed her teeth at his forced deadpan expression. "Sorry, babe, but I can't be tied down to one man. No hard feelings?" She laughed.

The warm sound filled his ears, causing a pleasant heat to spread across his chest. He sighed dramatically, making his voice crack on purpose. "Oh! You've crushed me, Ariadne." He staggered towards the doorway with the PASIV. "Stomped my heart into a billion tiny pieces!" He clutched his free hand to his chest.

Ariadne laughed again and chucked a pillow at his back. He instinctively arched his back to dodge the projectile, and it bounced off the wall just as he ducked out of the room.

"Come back and take that pillow like a man!"

"No!"

He heard Ariadne's feet hit the floor while he walked down the short hallway to the coat closet.

"I'm gonna start washing up, okay?"

"Got it," he called back. "I'll put this back so it's nice and safe." He then stood in front of the open closet.

"Got it!"

Squatting down, Arthur gently replaced the PASIV in the architect's hidden compartment in her closet floor and pulled the rectangular, hinged panel back down over it. He checked the seal on the hidden space and rearranged the old jacket and shoes back over the floor.

_It's certainly clever… I wonder if it was her idea or Eames's..._

Closing the closet door, he turned to the TV, shut it down, and turned out the rest of the lights in the apartment. He paused a moment to look out the French doors overlooking the city beyond Ariadne's balcony. Only a few other apartments were still illuminated by anything other than the glow of street lamps below.

After a bit, he wandered back to the bedroom. The table lamp was still on, and Ariadne was lying quietly under the sheets in her bed, her back to him. He lingered in the doorway, watching her side rise and fall. She was already sound asleep. At dinner, she had spoken about an idea that was pissing her off because it was perfect for a dreamscape, but, no matter what changes she made to the personal project, it just wasn't very applicable in the real, gravity-ruled world.

_I think the dream world would've found you whether it was us who introduced you or not. You took to it so quickly. There really isn't anything like it, is there?_

He crept to the bathroom to clean up before coming back into the bedroom to strip down to his undershirt and boxers. As quietly as possible, he switched off the table lamp and carefully slipped under the cool sheets, trying to jolt the bed as little as possible. Distantly, he could feel the heat radiating off her small, sleeping body.

He yawned and started to feel fatigue take him, too. For now, he was using most of his time for research, too, on weaponry and the underground crime scene by gathering information from his network of contacts. Through half-open eyes, he could see her relaxed face and made a silent promise to her and to himself. While he'd been concerned about her physical being, she had been worried about their mental states.

_Don't worry, Ariadne… we won't repeat history. I won't let you go crazy._

**Le End!**

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**A/N: I hope you guys and gals enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! :) Thanks for the reviews and favs, and be sure to check out my other stories if you've got the time!**


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